Of Golden Threads and Emerald Sight
by CkyKing
Summary: And he laid on the cold, cold ground, watching the paths of the future unfurling before him like a flower of golden time and brittle death.
1. Of Broken Clocks

Disclaimer : The characters featured in this fanfiction belong to their respective authors, here, J K Rowling.

Summary : And he laid on the cold, cold ground, watching the paths of the future unfurling before him like a flower of golden time and brittle death.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 : Of Broken Clocks<strong>

And he laid on the cold, cold ground, listening (watching) to the cries of a name (_Harry!_), a mark (_Mr Potter!_), a brand (_Potter!_). The golden sand everything, everywhere, falling on him, in him, breaking and shaking and shifting and molding him into something new (something old).

While his entire world was of sand and of glass not yet made, he remembered. Three hours, bushy hair, demons of broken dreams and shattered souls, saving someone (Black, Sirius, Padfoot, the forgotten dreams of a fey eyed child, Murderer, Godfather), a splintering hourglass…

And he finally Saw (had Seen, Seeing, would See) the world without the blindfold of the warped beliefs of humanity. The golden threads of Time dancing and twisting and singing to him, the reality of Magic (mothersistermasterslavePower) and the overwhelming nature of death because Time was Death and Time was all about loss (of life, of beliefs, of worlds, of all).

Harry Potter was now possibilities, probabilities, could have, should have, will be, had been, golden Time showing him eternity and he was like a spider on her (so very fragile) web.

The brittle and silver strands of their lives (friends, families, enemies…), impossibly weak around him, compared to his golden web (of the future) because Seeing added even more outcomes while reducing some paths to rubble, because Seeing was knowing and knowledge was power.

And Harry Potter became what he should have been, golden threads in his emerald death gaze , hair the color of beginnings and endings , lily-white (death, purity, rebirth) skin and he laughed, brilliants tears (of fallen stars and ended wars) falling down his face (breaking his world).

Because he Was and he will never Have Been anymore.

A Flower of Death, A Child of Time

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><p>This is my first story so, please review and tell me what you think.<p> 


	2. Of New and Old Beginnings

**Chapter 2 : Of New and Old Beginnings**

All the people assembled (Wizards, Fools to think they truly knew) in the infirmary only had one word to describe the fey being that was getting up slowly from the floor. One world that echoed from their very core, inscribed there from immemorial times where cold eyed Queens of icy death and fiery beauty and Old Gods of Forgotten Names still walked this realm. Carved by the pain and blood and tears from the Ancestors (Druids, Childes of Mother Earth, of Gaia's blood) who tried to defy the will of Time (Death) and Magic (Life) and were shown the power of the Gifted (Cursed) Ones.

"Seer" was now the title (what he Is, what he will always Be) of the one bearing the name of Harry James Potter.

Only one tries to talk for they are all rooted to the spot, mute (fearing as they should).

"My dear boy, how do you feel?" Dumbledore asks, voice full of confusion (caution) and awe (fear). For a Seer's wrath to whom had done them wrong is a fickle thing, and hiding a prophecy from its chosen (Harry, Child of Time, of Magic) is one (the) offense that is never forgiven.

"I feel…perfectly… fine" answers Harry, slowly inspecting his surroundings with new (true) eyes, watching things that he couldn't (wouldn't) describe. And it's true, because for the first time in his (painful) short life, he is truly and utterly free.

Even Before (being human, wizard, being weak, always alone), he was of the Air (flying, weaving, diving), but now he was Other (Seer), flitting across the realms only now (now that he Was) he could perceive.

He whispers now with an ethereal (inhuman) voice, an echo accompanying him:

"A Seer belong to no one, no species, nobody, no realms, only to himself, Time and Magic. Everything ("_Everyone_" whispers the voice) else who tries to own him shall be destroyed."

"A Seer is not human, I may be born to the wizards you knew as Lily Evans and James Potter but I am not ("_not anymore_" agrees the voice) of them"

He then turns and stares at the man and everything that makes him Albus Dumbledore is scattered apart to be inspected at his leisure. Harry now Sees him as he is (The Paths walked seen as millions, billions golden (not always good) decisions woven together that he acknowledges and picks apart and _remembers_) and Knows (the lies, the shadowed truths, the shifting magic, the actions for the (_His_) Greater Good). And the web of lies that he can now feel (warping, strangling, holding) him and his (always struggling, fighting, protecting) magic is destroyed (because knowledge is power).

Without anything holding him down, he can now hear the glorious voice of his Magic along with the new (who should've always Been) voice of Time in the back of his head, he will never be really alone anymore.

Dumbledore sees (feels) the anger dancing in the verdant eyes of Harry (his weapon, his glory) and he finally understand the warnings of Old :

"_Beware the twisted messengers of Time, Dancers amongst the realms are the Seers, Reflections of Death to be brought on you, if foolish you are to provoke their anger_ ("_and shall be chained in the threads of their makers" _adds Harry (dangerously) quietly )."

The newly Became Seer was waiting, shifting along the possibilities, golden (turned silver) threads after another, for (the shadow that marks his past) Albus was at his end , the paths wilting one after the other (Brittle, Brittle Death).

The motionless boy starts to walk (Silver eyes opens from the lands of dreams) towards the doors of the infirmary, liquid grace marking his steps (his punishment was closecloserhere) : "Now, know that Arianna is dead by your hand"

The doors close quietly and Dumbledore breaks into tears and falls to his knees, the others still mute, still waiting, still fearing.

The Sight of so many Deaths (Possibilities splintering and breaking, Paths disappearing) is like a song to him and _all his threads are dull and colorless _now.

"You truly are a Flower of Death"

"Was I not born to the lily, Sister ("Childe" Time whispers) mine?"

Gold woven Emeralds meet Sparkling Silver.

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><p>Review and give me your thoughts.<p> 


	3. Of Dancing in the Moonlight

**Chapter 3 : Of Dancing in the Moonlight**

"Who is she?" Harry asks to his Magic and to Time singing (talking) quietly in the fields of his mind (his own realm).

He could have Known who she was but like attract like and Seeing someone whom Time considered her Childe was impolite (difficult, so many paths entwining) . He knew her as brethren because he could feel her marks (footsteps within footsteps on the roads of her (Death, Time, Mirrors of each other) realm) in this school (yet more) where Hermione used the time-turner (stolen Time).

"She is like you (Seer) but not (not now, not yet, not at all)" and he Knew, Knowledge blooming (what she was, is and mightmay be) in his realm and he Saw and acted.

"Luna Selene Lovegood"

"Harry James Potter" She answers because she knows he is something (something terrible, something wonderful) that she is not (doesn't want to be).

"Are we not Her messengers? Being named a Flower of Death is a compliment" He answers and knows that he behaves differently (not like a human, not like a wizard) and he _doesn't care._

"I am not one of hers (not like you) and don't wish to be. My mother was and she was lost (to me, to daddy) because of Her." Luna is angry and she shouldn't but it has been too long (it hurts) and she let it out (just a little).

"But you cannot stop what you are." He eggs her on because she has to understand that denying it (what she will Become) is worse for Life and Death guard jealously their (so very few) chosen.

He is the first in a long time who Became (Understand) what he Is because of the green Death (horcrux) and the selfless offering (of life, of love)

"Shut up! You..!"Time has stopped around her, the golden strands stay locked around (in) her and she can't See (pleasepleasegiveitback!) anymore. He tried to show her but anger makes you blind (nomoreprobabilities) and what (giftcurse) was given was briefly taken back and Time starts again.

"We shall give you until the sunrise to reject (nononono) our gift." Tells Harry (but not) with his so very beautiful (it hurts) voice.

And he leaves her in front of the infirmary alone (blind) and go outside (elsewhere,elsewhen).The moon (Death) is full and its light (darkness) make the lake a mirror (Moon).

Elsewhere (not) where everything and nothing are not something, the Winter (Summer ) Queen smiles and her (their) subjects rejoice because Time has found her chosen (so interesting).

He Sees himself (herself, themselves) for the first time, three beings in one (thrice) with so much possibilities that he is like the sun (Life) with the threads dancing (singing) like rays around him.

And the realities (faedemonsangelsoldones) are soso _close_ that he touches (tastes) them with the strands (of Magic, Of Time, Of _Death_ and _Life_) and it's _glorious_.

Knowledge as numerous as the stars unfolds before him and it becomes ("a gift") his to do as he pleases in his (their) mind.

The horcrux (vile heartsoul) _burns _in the Golden Fire that created all and the threads burns,snaps,blacken and his (Voldemort) world is torn asunder.

Harry Sees and smiles and laughs in the night of the Full Moon.

For he is the Mirror and do not forget (do not forgive).

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><p>Read, Review, tell me what you think<p> 


	4. Of Prisms and Shadowy Shards

**Chapter 4 : Of Prisms and Shadowy Shards**

When Harry wakes up (from the dreams of so long ago), he feels new (old, so old). The burdens (of expectations, of prophecy) are gone and his soul is his (their) alone.

Everything is now open to him.

He can still feel the pull of the Moon (Avatar of TimeDeath) but he is the Mirror no more (clouded by layers and layers of his self).

Everything is different (Perception is everything).

The stars (so close) are like jewels of impossible colors scattered on the inky (deathly) black sky.

Transient light makes Hogwarts' grounds into silveryshivery Winter (the Other side).

The moon (false one, wrapped in illusions) is a touch away from him (in the flowing water) and she is alive in his hands.

The Moon (unveiled) Is.

He Feels (HearsTouchsSeesTastes) the slow breath (LeyLines) of the Earth (Gaia), the mercury (unpredictable) sighs of the Skies, the Magic that goes roundroundround ("not like this!" and Time laughs) everywhere (Himself, Herself, the wards, the (Lady) School), the spidery delicate whispers of (tiny little hearts) Lives (everywhere and nowhere, everything and everyone), the chimes of (small and not so small) Dreams in the night wind.

And he falls (like Alice in the rabbit hole) into himself where there is only Time like burning lines with Forever a breath away and he just has to reach out (with Time's soft murmurs and Magic's wings around him) and See.

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><p>Luna is afraid (alone) but doesn't dare (not yet) to go to Harry to get her gift back because he is Seer ,prism to the unfocused light of Time but she saw his eyes (windows to within) break into thousands (ragged) shards that pierced and slashed (her mind, her self) with three into one (too much).<p>

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><p>Sitting under a weeping willow, the lake lapping at his feet, Harry feels the breath of Winter on his neck, gets up and Looks.<p>

Beneath a veil (of don't look, don't see) is a Fae ("messenger" Magic hums), like a man but not (too perfect, too cold) standing on the lake and with a sword (of frosted nightmares) attacks him (for Winter is born of the darkest (not bad) feelings and appreciate strength).

Harry reaches out and seizes and _squeezes_ and there is a (spidery delicate) flower that beats in his hand (one,slash,two,dodge,three,smash) and it scatters and it feels cold and he is alone again.

There is still a tiny wisp of power (magiclife_ohGod!_) that enters him; he is Frozen (no feelings, no emotions) and his hair flashes white (color of nothingness).

Winter has opened the Dance (that goes round and round and round).

Amidst the crooning of Time and Magic in his mind, he doesn't care for the silver grey (like wintry death) that follows him.

The boy (if he could be called so) walked and walked, urged by the castle, Magic shielding him from sight (harm), and through the door to the Room (that comes and go). The room is simple, a lit fire place, a couch and a mirror (a world) taking an entire wall.

He looks at himself and the ice shatters, he is not Frozen anymore and for the first time since he Became, he lets go (of the pretence, the deceptions, the illusions) and Sees.

He is the Fool, the Zero, endless and limitless; there is always place for more in him (more than himself, more than time, more than magic moremoremore).

His mind is full (of cracks, of couldshouldwillhaveto happen, of noise that won't _stop_, of dreams, of deaths, of _nightmares_) because he Is Seer (Feeler, Dreamer) and he can't _not_ See.

He Is and he will never Have Been anymore, and tears (of falling stars and ended wars) slide down his face (break the world).

He is a paradox of strength and weakness (a Mirror that makes and breaks the world), cracks running and running and stopping and continuing.

Seers can live forever but sometimes, _they don't want to_.

In the end, he lives because he Is.

Fragile and lovely and so very afraid

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><p>Please, review and tell me what you think so that i can make the story better.<p> 


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